


Your Last Hope

by weremound



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Nursing, Psychological Horror, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weremound/pseuds/weremound
Summary: You wake up to find yourself kidnapped by Nagito.---A spooky Nagito/Reader crack fic for Halloween because I personally am horrified of xReader fics.





	Your Last Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrbubbles12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrbubbles12/gifts).

> I hate that my first fic on AO3 is a Nagito/Reader fic, but I wanted to whip up something in a few hours for Halloween. Obviously, if you like Nagito/Reader or any /Reader fics, you do that, but they make me very uncomfortable and I wanted to make fun of the weird way that people obsess over and write Nagito.
> 
> IF YOURE COMING FROM TIK TOK, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE TAGS

You jolt awake in a cold sweat, your eyes still unadjusted to the dark environment. You lash about and flutter your eyes as you search for any potential threat from the nightmare you just had. It’s hard to see with dried tears covering your corneas, fogging your vision. You feel the points of the bed where your body connects and sit up as you hear the springs of the mattress coil underneath you.

...Springs?

You recall convincing your parents to buy you a Tempur-pedic® mattress, something you thought would help your major depressive induced insomnia. It didn’t, but more importantly, what happened to your Tempur-pedic®? You feel a chill over your body and realize there’s no blanket and you’re in your underwear. You blink some more and see that you aren’t in your room at all. The room is empty and completely devoid of your _ Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure _ prints you bought at Otakon. It’s just you, the spring mattress, and a chair about twenty feet away from you in the middle of the room.

Not just a chair, but someone sitting in the chair.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the figure says before reaching up to pull a cord above it, turning on a single light bulb, revealing Nagito Komaeda wearing nothing but his white, plaid boxers. (AN: O///O) He returns to his position of his knees against his chest, arms around his legs, his Nagitoes wiggling as he watches you with beautiful, emerald orbs as empty as the room.

“Nagito?” you question. “Where are we?”

He stands up and approaches you, concerned. “Did you have a nightmare?” He gently caresses your sweaty face. “Shhhh… it wasn’t real. It’s okay… I’m here.”

You jolt back. “What are you doing? Don’t touch me! What’s going on?!”

“You don’t want me to comfort you?”

“No! Tell me what’s going on! Did you bring me here?”

“I did.” Nagito’s face is blank.

“You kidnapped me?” you shudder with cold realization. “Why? What do you want from me?”

“You have nothing to be scared of. I’m going…” He smiles as he shrugs. “...to take care of you.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

He inches closer. “Aw, does little (Y/N) need their diaper changed?” He hooks his fingers into the band of your underwear. You immediately push him away and leap off the bed, crashing on the floor.

With the way he’s positioned, he’s blocking the exit, leaving you cornered. “Where are my clothes?! Give them back!”

He sticks his hand down the front of his pants. You gasp, looking away.

Nagito pulls out a knife, his viridescent spheres widening.

He dashes towards you, swinging his arm down and you scream, feeling an immediate sharp pain in your leg. You drop to the ground and see a hole in your thigh, blood quickly oozing out of the wound. Your first instinct is to cover it with your hands but the pressure makes the injury sting even more. You roar again as Nagito laughs so hard he wheezes.

“That sucks, huh?” he taunts, squatting down to your level. “What are you going to do? You can’t run away.” He gets closer to your face, his previously grassy green, intraocular fluid-filled ping-pong balls now black from dilation, and whispers, “Show me. Show me the hope you have that you can escape.” Your tears river down your cheeks, understanding his true intentions.

Nagito frowns and raises the knife again. This time, adrenaline surges through your blood like your recent influenza vaccine and you dodge his attack. You crawl a few feet away from him, dragging your leg along with you.

“That’s it! That’s perfect!” he yells. You stand up and Nagito lets you limp your way up the stairs, your leg pulsating in pain as you hear his cackles behind you.

You open the basement door and enter a hallway on the first floor of a house. You turn right and limp your way into a kitchen, and only a kitchen. A dead-end. The basement staircase creaks under Nagito’s weight.

“Fingers in his ass… Fingers in his ass...” he slowly sings. “Kanye West, he likes… fingers in his ass.” He’s trying to scare you but is still giving you a chance to run. You know he saw which way you went and that if you turn back, he’ll catch up to you. You have to hide.

Your eyes fall onto a large trashcan and you dive into it, closing the lid on top of you. A lump forms in your throat at the smell of old milk and expired meat. Nagito would certainly hear you vomit, so you hold it back the best you can.

“Fingers in his ass…” his voice is muffled from where you are, but you can tell he’s inside the kitchen. You cover your mouth, trying your best to calm your staggered breath.

“Fingers in his ass…” he continues, voice whistling on the high notes from his whispers. The plaps of his Nagitoes against the tile gets louder. “Kanye West, he likes…”

_ SCREEEEECH _

He’s scrapping the knife against the marble island. His footsteps are getting closer again.

“...big…”

Nagito is getting louder. He stopped walking.

“...fingers…”

You take a deep breath.

“...in his…”

The smell is too much and you gag.

“...ass!”

The knife goes into the plastic lid and pierces your head. Luckily, you have nature’s helmet: a skull. The trashcan is knocked over and you spill out of it. Nagito lifts you up, his soft fingers digging into your arm, and runs his nose along your jawline, taking a big wiff of the trash all over you.

“Mmm…” he coos. “You smell just like me.”

You slam your knee in between his legs, forcing him to let go and hold himself. You drag your pained leg out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and finally enter the living room. You see the front door.

Freedom.

“(Y/N)!” Nagito groans from the kitchen. “Don’t leave me!”

Poor Nagito. He’s just a lonely guy. Just a sad, lonely, little trashman. You feel a little sorry for him. Nagito had lost his mind, but was that his fault? Was it his fault that so many crazy things happened to him? It’s not like he wanted to have cancer and dementia. His parents died in front of him. You feel an urge to comfort him.

“Fuck that,” you say, swinging the door open.

As soon as fresh air hits you, a large meteor lands in front of you. The impact sends you flying into the wall, knocking you unconscious.

“Well, would you look at that!” Nagito quips. “It must be my lucky day!”

***

You wake up to find yourself sitting in a chair in the kitchen. Your head is foggy and covered with the blood from your head wound. You’re reminded of the pain in your leg. Your body singes. You look down to see your entire body covered in burns from the meteor blast. Next to you, Nagito sits comfortably in his own chair, but he’s way too close for comfort.

“You’re sick.” He pulls out a bottle of burn cream. “Don’t worry, I told you I was going to take care of you.” His smile is warm and welcoming.

“I’m not sick,” you say with each tiny muscle movement sending a signal of agony to your brain. “I have second-degree burns.”

Nagito shushes you, putting a finger to your lips. “And a concussion. You need to rest.” He squirts the cream into his hand and gently strokes your inner thigh. “This is what you want, right?”

There was nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

The only thing you could do now was fight.

As much as it pains you to move, you flail your arm and pimp-slap his cheek. He falls out of his chair and you sit on top of him, wrapping your fingers around his neck. You press your thumbs hard onto his windpipe. He grabs your wrists but doesn’t make an effort to move them.

“Good…” he rasps.

You don’t say anything, choosing to squeeze him harder.

“Choke me, (Y/N). Choke me!” Lust pours into his bloodshot head-balls. “This is… what I want. Your… last hope. Fill me with your hope, (Y/N)!”

You scream in his face.

Soon, he goes limp.

You did it. You killed Nagito Komaeda with your last hope for survival.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!


End file.
